


Corruption

by MaskofSilver



Category: Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fainting, Gentle Kissing, Minor Character Death, Multi, not beta read we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 09:51:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18444113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaskofSilver/pseuds/MaskofSilver
Summary: After Tria the Jedi Exile finds out how she influences her followers, she agrees to have the Force taken from her.





	Corruption

Tria awoke to the gentle rustling of wind in her hair.

Her first thought was that her head was absolutely killing her. She remained still. She wanted to remain there, enjoy the stillness, maybe go back to sleep to see if it let up. She wasn’t going to acknowledge them until they spoke to her.

She hadn’t anticipated that her body would struggle so much against the Force stasis locking her in place. She remembered muscles seizing and spasming against its hold, even as she tried to relax and accept her punishment. She felt the ache now, spreading from her stomach and chest, mostly. She didn’t know when she lost consciousness exactly, but she was glad that she had. The only thing that made her want to reject them was the idea of feeling the Force being snuffed out within her, and she was just grateful to have missed it. She frowned and grunted in response as the discomfort of her headache only mounted, pressing her eyes tightly together as she listened.

Just stillness. Distant birds. A soft breeze. She had expected a closing statement, an utterance of sympathy, anything.

If nothing else, she thought they would at least have had the decency to get her back to Khoondar.

Waiting for a word from the Masters, she started trying to ease the headache. She held her breath, counted to ten and released it slowly, picturing the pain pouring out with her breath in bright red tendrils.

Nothing felt different. Even after, nothing felt different. Breathe, hold, release. She thought losing the Force a second time would have been … indescribable, but nothing felt different at all. Just this soreness that felt more familiar to her than the silence. It wasn’t even that bad, the headache was what was keeping her down. Breathe, hold, release. She thought that the Masters would have stayed, at least one of them, to offer counsel on what she should do now. Breathe, hold, release. Or just to double-check, prod her with the Force to see if she twitched.

Breathe.

She prodded herself.

Hold.

She twitched _oh no_

Release.

Feeling like she was about to stab herself in the gut, she concentrated and she breathed in and she reached out…

…and instantly pulled back, gasping as her eyes shot open. There was something _horrible_. Completely ignoring the headache and the soreness, she pushed herself up onto her hands and looked over at the Masters and _oh no_

She remained silent as she looked at them. The Force was definitely still there and they were not. They felt wrong, somehow, like a rip in fabric.

She turned from them and sucked down a deep, greedy breath. She released it and her body shrunk down with it. So it hadn’t worked. The Force was still there. She was still connected to it, despite their efforts.

She accepted it.

_Have you noticed that when you act, others follow?_

Her gaze had flicked from one to the other, one stern Jedi Master to the other as they sentenced her.

_Those that travel with you … they follow you, without question. Without hesitation._

She wasn’t sure that she understood, that she ever knew fully what they meant, but she felt a thick coldness worm around in her stomach as they spoke, as the realization struck …

_You transmit your pain, your suffering through the force._

Somehow, she knew that it was true. She had wondered herself, why so many who knew little more about her than her name seemed willing to follow her into all sorts of insanity, all sorts of dangers for no other reason than that she was going, as if led by some irresistible siren call to her conflicts.

_When you suffer, their spirit echoes it._

Why they would tell her that they’d join her up until a point, that they’d leave once their business was done but still found more reasons to stay, why they seemed to tell her more about themselves than they ever planned to tell another living soul, why she caught such softness in their eyes as they drifted towards her. Why they would run into blaster fire because what she needed was on the other side of it.

_You are a cipher, forming bonds, leeching the life of others, siphoning their will and dominating them._

Whether she wanted to or not, she had drawn them to her. She had pulled them into the battlefield that her life had become, and she wasn’t sure that they could even think of the option of leaving anymore. She couldn’t keep hurting them, and maybe breaking this connection would also break theirs. No cost was too high if it would help them. She accepted the punishment.

_You are a threat to living creatures, and all who feel the Force._

And it hadn’t worked. And now the Masters were dead. And now there was no one else who had the power to sever her connection to the Force, to help her stop hurting them.

She sat up and settled into her meditation position without thinking about it. Sat there in silence for a moment and stared at the ground by her crossed legs. Watched the dry grass sway softly in the breeze. The headache had grown from a persistent thumping to a sharp, nauseating throbbing.  There were dead bodies behind her and she still felt the coldness oozing around inside her stomach. Her thoughts came to her as in burst, like they had back when she was at war, fighting, short little commands as if her mind was trying to keep her full attention at them.

_Enough. Stand. Already dead. Can’t be helped. Move. Stop the hurting. First step? What happened? First step? Ebon Hawk._

Another deep breath as more, longer thoughts came rushing to her. She tried to let them wash over her mind unheeded, but they kept rolling back, circling around in her mind like a flock of black birds. They pecked at her, cut at her. _Did they feel when it happened?_

She stood up and didn’t turn back to look at the corpses. She wasn’t going to bury them, wasn’t going to touch the damned, cursed things. She brushed the dust off her clothes, fixed her eyes at the far door. _How can I save them?_ She was heading back to the Ebon Hawk, to find out where to go next and end this. She still had a struggle to face. _Will they resent me for it?_

She walked through the empty fields, past the scavengers and the odd packs of mercenaries that still remained. At one point, she found herself standing on a hill, looking down at a pack of men building a camp. Setting up a tent, placing out their packs of equipment. _They’d come looking for me._ They had a tiny shuttle behind them, no doubt already claustrophobic enough just for the four of them. She entertained the thought of walking down the hill, convincing them to pack up and leave with her and never let anyone know where she went. Never speak her name again. Never use the Force again. _Maybe they’d never stop looking_. Drift from port to nameless port, just another anonymous mercenary.

She moved on.

She couldn’t tell how long it took to head back. No doubt twice as long as it had taken to get from the ship to the Enclave. As she approached the landing pad, she opened her mind to the Force and instantly felt a careful touch, like the probing leg of a spider reaching out to inspect its catch. _Visas. Was she waiting for her, the stranded woman staring longingly at the horizon?_ She returned the touch as if leaning into a caress, shielding her despair behind gray curtains. It pulled back as if burned, paused, then returned. Gently, she pushed it away, knowing that doing so was probably proof enough that something was wrong. _I am just breaking her more, grinding her under my heel, obey obey obey_.

Tria’s steps slowed, but she didn’t stop as she ran the thought through her mind again, as if she’d missed something. She straightened her back, raised her chin, let her eyes settle into steel.

The façade held as she walked up the ramp, as she heard the sound of heavy steps against the metal floor inside. Just the mishmash of emotions clear on Atton’s face made a chasm open up inside of her, made her feel like she was pulled down through the floor. _They can’t help but worry_. She barely heard what he said, it was as if she couldn’t help but look right through him or deep inside of him, where _she could make him do whatever she wanted_.

He noticed her lack of response and fell silent. She knows that her mask holds, one she’s worn many times before, hiding a flurry of activity behind a blank, calculating gaze. She could feel his emotions burning and flaring like fireworks across a dark sky, anger, worry and impatience, and a sense of urgency calmed only slightly by her presence. He was just waiting for her decision and she couldn’t find any words. She let her eyes drift over the room, towards Mira who just met her gaze with a slight frown, the smallest squinting of her analyzing eyes. _I think I tainted them_. Mical, wide-eyed and concerned, taking in the silence and the strained tension in the air from a doorway. One of his fingers, she noticed, tapped against his thigh right next to his lightsaber, as if he was expecting the need to use it.

They were all just awaiting her order, almost holding their breath in anticipation for it. As if it was all that mattered. Tria realized that she actually was holding hers. _They would complain, but in the end, they would do whatever she asked_.

There was a whisper of fabric behind her, a softness of words. Visas had come to investigate, she had come to follow. All of them had, even if they didn’t know. Tria sucked in a breath, and it came in stuttering and unsteady. Her eyes fixed on the ceiling. Atton’s face dropped, he raised his hands, took a step towards her, saying her name silently. _I have ruined them, I have ruined them for everything else but me_.

Her heart was pounding, racing out of control. Her throat closed up.

_Such excellent puppets they would make_.

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe. Her legs were shaking, her eyes pressed shut, she couldn’t breathe. Everything was noise around her, the flood of emotions like a storm inside of her.

_I tried to end it for you_.

She thought someone held her, but her head still hit the floor hard.

 

-

 

Tria woke up. Again.

She opened her eyes and blinked at the ceiling in the cramped med bay. Her mouth was dry and there was a sore spot in her lower lip, probably from taking a hit as she fell. Her hands were shaking against the synthetic surface of the bed. She turned her head to the side.

Bao-Dur sat on the edge of the bed, half turned away from her. He didn’t say anything, just gave her a faint smile. Behind him, she could make out Atton’s silhouette in the doorway.

“Telos?” he asked. She nodded. The movement made spots dance in front of her eyes and he was gone as soon as she moved. She could hear arguing outside, the kind of hushed voices that people who actually want to shout at each other would make. A barked order from Mandalore, a sharp reply from Mira and a muttering of continued conversation. She glanced over at Bao-Dur again, who just offered her a bottle wordlessly.

Her hands were still shaking, but the water felt like a sacred gift. She focused on the feeling of it, tried to center herself.

“Are you hurt?”

The question was so silent that she almost missed it. She sighed her reply, feeling like she had to tear her tongue from the roof of her mouth.

“No.”

He hummed in reply and shifted on the bed, inching closer to her. She looked up at him.

“Good. We were worried about you.” A pause. “Do you want more water?”

She nodded and he took the bottle back and disappeared out of the room. She tried sitting up, grimacing at the swimming feeling in her head as she did. She could hear hushed conversation outside, but couldn’t make out any details. She closed her eyes and let her head sink forward, shaking it slowly from side to side as if to wake herself up.

“Hey …” a warm hand on her shoulder. “Just lie back down if you need to.”

She shook her head and drank more water greedily. She grunted as she swallowed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and gave a hoarse, short laugh.

“I’ve messed up, Bao.”

He sat down next to her, a faint smile on his lips, but there was still concern in his eyes.

“I wouldn’t worry about that. We’ve all seen people fainting before, and I doubt anyone here is the kind to ridicule it. Do you need anything else? I think I saw one of those snack portions with something sweet in it in here.”

Tria smiled at that, but couldn’t bear to look at him. She didn’t want to correct the misunderstanding. Maybe the best thing was to pretend like nothing had happened at all, just to get back up on her feet and back to her duties.

“Thank you, Bao, but no. You are too kind…”

“Well, I’m no medic, but I guessed a drop of blood sugar levels might have caused it.”

She hummed. She brushed a few rogue strands of hair behind her ear. She reminded herself that she once had to use the Force to heal three stab wounds almost the depth of half her hand in her thigh just so she could focus on shooting Mandalorians again, and now she could barely tear her eyes off the water bottle and tell her friend what she was doing to him. He sat down next to her again.

“Would you like me to get Mical for you? I didn’t see any injuries on you, but …”

Maybe she was doing it to him as they spoke, every word pulling him down deeper. Would he obey whatever she asked him to do at this point?

“… but perhaps I just missed them.” It was barely more than a whisper.

This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do. She was a veteran and a trained Jedi, not a child afraid of a slap. Whatever hurt was coming, she would face it. She knew she had to do it eventually, she was just so bone tired of facing the hurt. It had been so much lately, so much of everything she hated in life. Killing, hurting, always struggling just for mere survival. This, the death of the Masters and the near repeated loss of the Force felt like a burden she couldn’t carry. It felt like a strange thing, but she really would have liked to speak to Kreia. Of course, Kreia wasn’t available, but Bao-Dur was there. Reserved, silent Bao-Dur.

So she looked up and met his eyes, trying to remain calm and controlled and knowing that the tears were already overflowing. She was far past the point of doing anything to stop them. Every blink forced more of them down her cheeks. Bao-Dur’s eyes widened slightly and she could see a quick motion in him, a twitch as if his first impulse was to move closer to her and his second impulse to stop himself.

All she planned to do was to ask him a question, but despite her wanting to speak so someone about what had happened, it was as if just the thought of doing so was too much. Instead she dropped the water bottle to the floor, sat up and threw her arms around him. She burrowed her face against his chest, her forehead pressing against his clavicle, and gave one sob which made her whole body shake. Bao-Dur stiffened, raising his arms and holding them over her, as if unsure of whether he should hold her or push her away.

The door opened.

“I’ve set the course for Telos and we’re in hyperspace now, it shouldn’t be much more than a couple of …” Atton was already explaining as he stepped in through the door, coming to an abrupt halt at the scene in front of him. His eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Uh.”

There was just another brief pause as Atton’s eyes scanned over Bao-Dur’s dumbstruck face and, most importantly, the shaking of Tria’s shoulders before his face melted into a softer expression. “Oh.”

Tria looked up, her eyes darting between the two men in the room. She knew that she was probably making a fool of herself, but couldn’t keep herself from sobbing.

“Hey, hey …” Atton closed the door behind him and closed the distance between them, leaning on the bed behind Tria. His hand landed on her back, warm and still.

“I just … you …” Tria tried to force the words out through the thickness of her throat. She looked up at Atton as he looked over at Bao-Dur, looking for some explanation. She felt his body moving in a slight shrug, a much smaller motion than he’d usually give so she wouldn’t get pushed off him. His hands still weren’t resting on her and Atton didn’t move his hand on her back.

“I don’t know. I thought she was hurt, but I don’t think she is. I don’t know if she is.”

“Haven’t you wondered?” Tria blurted out, babbling her questions between sobs. She knew that she was acting undignified, but she could not stop the tears now. “Why you’re doing all of this, why you’re … you’re always in danger, I’m sorry that I did this.”

“Did what? What happened back there?” Atton asked, his voice not carrying any of the distancing sarcasm that she was so used to. She shook her head, her heart sinking. She’d tell them, and they would stay with her anyway. They would hate her, but they would stay.

“The Council, the Masters, I … I’ve been influencing you, corrupting all of you, I didn’t know but it …” she began, but trailed off, once again closing her eyes and burrowing her face against Bao-Dur’s chest as if it would hide her. She didn’t know how to tell them that she had been prepared to give up every power she had known, just to keep all of them safe. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, you’re all so important to me and I don’t want to force you but I’ve … I’ve …”

“What? Corrupting us?”

“You really did that, huh?”

All she could do was nod, feeling her tears wet her engineer’s shirt. Some hardened veteran she was, bawling into someone’s clothes like a love-sick child. Some Jedi.

Her self-deprecating inner monologue was interrupted by a muffled sound, and she could feel Atton’s hand moving on her back. She wondered what was happening for just a brief moment before she realized that he was crying. After all they’d been through, this is what did it for him.

She raised her head with a gasp, looked back towards him and … he was trying to stifle a laugh. When their eyes met and he knew that he’d been caught, he stopped trying to suppress it and let out a genuine guffaw. It wasn’t the loudest she’d heard him laugh but it was up there with the top of them.

Baffled, she looked up at Bao-Dur, but he looked just as surprised as she felt, his eyes flicking from her to him and back again as if he didn’t know which display was the most unbelievable.

“Corrupt us? They said that _you_ would corrupt _us_?” Atton finally chuckled, grinning at her. “Shows what those fossils know!”

She looked back at Bao-Dur. He gave her a small smile in return, although one that looked more relieved than amused, and finally let his hands rest on her. She could feel how tense he was, as if he was preparing to dart out of the room at any moment.

“No, no, you don’t understand, the Masters …”

“The Masters don’t know us,” Atton interrupted and while there was still a smile on his face, there was the slightest hint of an edge to his voice and something hard in his eyes. “They have no idea who we are. And I don’t know about this guy right here, but I know for sure that I haven’t done any of my worst while I’ve hung around with you. You don’t even have to give us the details. They can take their ‘corruption’ and stick it.”

Tria gave him a wide-eyed look. Her tears had stopped rolling down her face but she was still sobbing, shallow sobs that made her breath hitch and body twitch with them. Just like before, as if to look for confirmation that she was hearing right, she looked up at Bao-Dur again. He was looking at Atton, an appraising look on his face as if he had been pressed to make a choice. His smile was gone and his lips pressed together, and he was moving his organic hand in an apparently absent-minded circle on her upper arm. It was warm against her.

“General,” he began, slowly as if he was weighing every word carefully for their worth, “I don’t know what they say you’ve done. But I do know that I haven’t done anything while travelling with you now that I think I would come to regret and like Atton, I know what I’m capable of.”

“But …” she began, her tears welling up again. This time, however, they came for a completely different reason. “But why would you come with me? Why would you do all these things for me, if not …”

“Because,” Bao-Dur said, without hesitation, “I wanted to help you. That’s the whole reason.”

“And you know why I’m here,” Atton added, his voice quieter than before, but still full of the same determination. “And it’s not because of some idea of corruption, you know I’d know that from a mile away.”

“I … We … We’re here because we want to be with you.”

Just the soft tone with which those words were spoken was enough. With a whine, as if giving in to something shameful, Tria once again began to cry. She pushed herself up off Bao-Dur, which just enabled him to shift position slightly, never taking his hands off her. Atton moved in closer beside her, leaning in.

Their warmth was calming and overwhelming all at once, and the pressure of their bodies felt so natural. The sobs that once again racked her body grew less intense as she grew more aware of their motions, the gentle touches of their hands.

When she felt the first feather-light ghost of a kiss against her hair, it didn’t even surprise her. She couldn’t help that her tear-stained lips broke into a smile as the relief and the joy washed through her body. A second kiss pressed against her temple and while she might be the worst Jedi in the known galaxy for it, but she wouldn’t stop them.

When she stopped sobbing, their hands began wiping tears from her cheeks, trailing the line of her jaw. When she met their eyes, she saw no hesitation, no confusion from either one of them. And before she returned to her role as a Jedi, to her duties and the fighting that still remained for them to do, she let her own fingers lace with theirs, let their smiles warm her. She met them as they leant in to kiss her.

And no matter who asked, she wouldn’t say who kissed her first.

**Author's Note:**

> So basically, I didn't like the fact that my character had the "why do you follow" conversation with Mical, whom I had talked to like once? So I wanted to rewrite it with two of the people I wanted her to have the conversation with, realized how "people love you and will follow you anywhere" can be super scary if she'd been evil and sprinkled it with generous helpings of angst! Maybe there's too much crying, idk. I hope you enjoyed.


End file.
